Dear ADHD - Blow Jobs Suck Because Of You

Dear ADHD,

Dude. What the fucking hell.

You’ve ruined most, not all, blowjobs for me. Like, I should be vibing, eyes rolling back, lost in the moment—but no. Instead, I’m thinking about my overdue car registration, the weird sound my ceiling fan is making, or why giraffes don’t just pass out from all that blood pressure, why don’t I pass out when I get, nonsense.

I know you mean well. You like movement. You like doing things. You treat stillness like a personal attack. And apparently, the second something starts feeling repetitive, you’re like “Welp, time to dip!” and suddenly, I’m deep-diving into some random thought spiral while someone is literally going to town on me.

But explain this—why is it that the second I’m tied up, you chill out? Like, the moment I physically can’t move, you’re all “Ohhh, okay, now we’re locked in.” That’s some next-level chaotic logic, bro. You’re like a dog that won’t stop running in circles until someone puts it in a crate and suddenly, it’s nap time. Hi - that’s me.

And the predictability thing? Yeah, I get it. Repetition bores you. Slow and steady? Not your vibe. You need a plot twist to stay engaged, like sex needs to be a damn Marvel movie just to hold your attention. Meanwhile, someone is literally putting in work, and I’m out here trying to force my brain to not wonder if penguins have knees or if I forgot to publish that episode of my podcast.

Would be real nice if I could just enjoy things like a normal person. But nah. That’s not how you roll.

So, fine. I’ll work around you. I’ll mix things up, throw in some sensory tricks, maybe request a little light bondage, or a sexy role play just to keep you entertained. Because at this point, I know better than to fight you.

You win, ADHD. You always do.

—Me